


Dream Shadow

by Bethynyc



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Past Abuse, past marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/pseuds/Bethynyc
Summary: A dreamer is called.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Dream Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Edonohana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/gifts).



Morpheus reached through the dream realm.

After the events involving the Cuckoo and the Land, he needed to check on the various skerries and dream-places. Benign neglect would not do any longer; he needed to discover if there were any other dream-places being misused. 

Yes…there was another one. Again, a human dreamer was at the center, or rather, the lack of a human dreamer.

He would need to send Matthew.

~*~*~*~

Zillah was exhausted. She was both too tired and too wired to sleep, and yet she needed rest. She rolled over onto her side and sighed as her cat snored softly at the foot of the bed. 

Her brain whirled, reliving her stress of the past few months. The divorce burned all of her savings and she still owed her parents money for moving out of the house. She had full time job at the community college that provided her with health insurance and enough to cover the basics. But Carnation needed her shots, her car needed new tires to pass inspection, and she herself needed to go to the dentist for a cleaning at the very least. Her tongue prodded at a sore spot at the gum line that wouldn’t go away. Zillah missed having dental insurance, but not enough to go back to Jake. 

There just wasn’t enough money to go around, even with economizing as much as possible. Three days a week she worked a second shift at Aroma, the non-chain coffee shop close to the campus, where the owner didn’t believe in just-in-time staffing and was happy to work around her schedule. She was lucky; she knew she was lucky to be away from Jake and in her own place rather than living with her parents. Being with him felt like losing tiny pieces of herself every day, and she still didn’t feel like she had all of herself back. 

Zillah sighed again; she could still smell coffee on her skin, despite a shower. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she had promised to go in early to help with the baking. She needed the hours, desperately, but she also needed to sleep. 

Frustrated, she wriggled out from under her covers without disturbing her cat and went into the bathroom. Zillah stared at her face in the mirror, poking at the bags under her hazel eyes. She was utterly exhausted, but her mind kept running in circles. Finally, she opened the cabinet and checked on the contents of a certain prescription pill bottle. 

Two left. 

She put the bottle aside, and took out the over-the counter headache and sleep medicine instead. She _did_ have a headache from lack of sleep, after all. If she was a little fuzzy-minded in the morning, it didn’t matter. She was mostly there to stir and sift and shape. Ben-The-Baker took care of deciding what to bake and setting up the ingredients. He also would greet her with a very large espresso made just the way she liked it.

The prescription was for emergencies. This was not an emergency. She was going to convince herself that this was not an emergency. 

Weighing the two bottles in her hand, she knew that being this short of sleep was a serious problem, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise. Things were not fine. She would need to call the campus health center on Monday. Until then, she would be sensible. 

Zillah washed down one of the prescription pills with a cup of water and screwed the cap back on the bottle with a vicious twist.

Back in her bedroom, Zillah discovered that Carnation had migrated to the center of the bed and was now occupying far more space than a twelve-pound cat should, considering the laws of physics. She scooped up the cat and, after unhooking a claw from the duvet, placed her at the foot of the bed. 

Her mind was finally slowing to the point where she could breathe properly. Zillah slid under the covers and turned out her bedside light. She wouldn’t think about Jake the ex, she wouldn’t think about her bills, she would just listen to Carnation purring and relax into the mattress.

Finally, she would be able to get some sleep. 

~*~*~*~

The dreamer was on her way. Matthew had been dispatched to guide her, as was his role. Morpheus was able to take a moment to investigate the dreamer’s space on Earth. Something was preventing this once-vibrant dreamer from dreaming deeply, and he was going to discover it. 

He slipped into the room where she slept. The cat raised her head and blinked at him slowly. 

::Greetings, Dream-Lord::

::Greetings, Silent-Hunter-Of-Moths:: Dream gazed around the small apartment. ::Magic has been used here.::

The cat jumped from the bed. ::The angry one has been here. He leaves magic.::

::Where?::

The cat showed him.

~*~*~*~

she was walking through a forest dark and deep and could see a clearing ahead so she hurried along the path ducking under the low branches of oak and pine that caught her clothes and tangled her hair she finally stepped out into the light into a field where sheep grazed (but were they sheep? she wasn’t sure because they had four legs and wooly coats but she was pretty sure sheep didn’t have eyes that glowed acid green when they stared resentfully at her from across the field and how did she know those stares were resentful anyway and it didn’t matter because that is exactly what they were) and she walked along the path with a hedgerow on one side and a field on the other and the air was light and the breeze was green and the black bird on the bush up ahead seemed much less resentful than the sheep

“Hello, bird,” said Zillah.

“Hello, human,” replied the bird. 

she stopped as she never expected the bird to answer she always said hello to birds and stay cats and random butterflies and any dogs on leashes that she might pass through her day but she never expected a response and so this was both completely out of the ordinary and yet also a moment to savor because someone saw her but now she really didn’t know what to say to a bird who replied to her greeting and this was really confusing

The bird cocked his head and looked first with one eye, then the other. “Know where you’re goin’?” it asked.

“No,” said Zillah. “Just following the path.”

The bird nodded sagely, “To the castle.”

castle what castle I didn’t know there was a castle involved will it look like disney 

“Hey,” said the bird.

Zillah shook her head, her sense of peace evaporating with every word from the bird’s mouth. “I can’t…” she said and turned back towards the gloomyscarycreepysafety of the forest.

“It’s okay. Don’t leave again.”

She froze and twisted slowly back. The bird spread his wings and drifted down to the path beside her. He settled his wings against his back and lifted his beak. “Please?” he said.

That simple word, one she heard so infrequently during her awful marriage, caught her attention and she focused on the bird. “What’s your name?” she asked. 

The question seemed to startle the bird. “Don’t you, um, well,” he stammered, and Zillah had to smile at the thought that she had made a bird uncomfortable. “Matthew. You can call me Matthew.”

Zillah started to speak, but something her Granny Flaherty used to say popped into her mind.  
*Don’t give away your name, dearest. The fairies can use it against you, that’s what my gran used to say.*

“Call me Shadow.” That’s what her name meant, that’s what Granny used to call her when she would stick so close during big family holidays. ‘My little shadow is helping in the kitchen’ and that would keep Zillah from being interrogated by noisy relatives who all asked the same things. 

That seemed to please the bird – Matthew – and he flew up to a tree next to the hedgerow. The tree had ribbons of all kinds tied to the branches; even some braided grass wreaths hung from some of the lower limbs. One ribbon looked like her favorite ribbon from childhood, one that Granny would tie around her ponytail. She’d lost it one day, and still missed it. Seeing that ribbon made the tree feel friendly, rather than ominous, and Zillah relaxed a little.

“Come along, Shadow,” said Matthew the bird, and he lifted his wings to soar along the path. 

Zillah followed. 

~*~*~*~

Three bundles made up of herbs and charms and blood were hidden throughout the apartment, all designed to siphon the dreams of the dreamer and funnel them to the sorcerer. Surprisingly strong, and made so that her sleep was not restful, her dreams denied. Through them, the sorcerer who created them would be able to enter the dream-land of the dreamer, and use the power of those dreams for his own purposes.

Morpheus was not pleased. 

He gathered the bundles in a fold of his robe and went back to where the dreamer slept. A tiny pinch of dream-sand was scattered over her face. He nodded again at the cat, who was once again settled into her spot at the foot of the bed.

::Guard this dreamer, Silent-Hunter-Of Moths::

::Yes, Dream-Lord:: With that, the cat tucked herself into a full circle, with her tail covering her nose. 

Morpheus returned to his realm. The dreamer would be arriving soon. 

~*~*~*~

The path turned into a track that turned into a dirt road that turned into a cobblestone street, as she passed stone houses and farms and finally a small town that formed up on the outskirts of a castle. People of all kinds nodded at her as she walked by. Matthew perched on her shoulder, guiding her with whispers in her ear. When they were alone on the path, they chatted, and Zillah was relieved to find out that Matthew was indeed a raven and that he worked with the Lord of Dreams. 

Zillah knew this was a dream. She felt energized, happy, and comfortable; she rarely felt that way during her waking life. Not since she started dating _him_. She asked Matthew about it, and he managed to shrug. “Don’t know. I’m just a raven.”

Somehow she had the impression that he was hiding something, but shook it off. Matthew had no reason to lie to her. She was going to enjoy this dream as long as she could.

The walk seemed to go on forever, yet was over in an instant. They were at the entrance to the Dream Castle, which looked more real than anything that Disney could have imagined. Three creatures nodded in welcome as they walked into the castle. 

“Guards. You’re a guest, so they won’t tear you to bits,” muttered Matthew. 

Zillah had a strange feeling of familiarity, as if this were a place she had ventured many times before. That feeling only grew stronger as a brown-haired pixie smiled at her as she passed, and a tall librarian inclined his head in greeting. 

They reached the throne room. There was an open space and various beings of all different sizes, shapes, and colors chatting with each other, as if at a very strange cocktail party. 

At the end of the room stood a throne, a huge chair that appeared to be made of diamond. It was the most intimidating piece of furniture Zillah had ever seen. Seated in the throne was a Person. He had spiky black hair that matched his robes, and stark white skin. As she drew closer, she could see that his eyes were stars set in the night sky. Matthew flew up to perch on the back of the throne. 

He was spooky. She should have been frightened. 

Zillah was not frightened. 

~*~*~*~

The dreamer approached his throne, Matthew at her side. The raven seemed to like her, even though she had forgotten him and all of the beings that peopled the land. 

The dreamer known as Shadow curtsied before him. 

Morpheus acknowledged her and gestured for her to approach. She stepped closer to the throne, puzzlement clear upon her face. 

“Dreamer Shadow,” said Morpheus, “We have a charge for you.”

She bowed her head, listening. “How may I help you, my Lord?”

“A sorcerer has stolen dreams and infiltrated one of the skerries. He is using it to create power for himself in the waking world. We ask that you track him and discover his true name. With knowledge of his name, he can be expelled from the deeper Dreamlands.” Morpheus held out a box. “Will you accept this charge?”

~*~*~*~

“Will you accept this charge?” The words echoed in Zillah’s ears and her mouth was suddenly dry. A quest—she was being sent on a quest—and somehow it was what she both feared and desired. Part of her wanted to say no, to have someone else in this glittering, strange company step up and take the quest. 

When she was young, Zillah had loved the stories of children having magical adventures, of the teen who was the Chosen One. Now _she_ was Chosen. She could not say no. 

“Yes, my lord Morpheus. What are your instructions?” she said. 

The Lord of Dreams raised his hand. “We shall retire and discuss this further in private.” He waved his hand, and the throne room melted away, to be replaced by a cozy library with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. 

At first, Zillah thought that the Lord of Dreams would look out of place in such a homey setting. Instead, he seemed more comfortable, at least as much as he could look comfortable. A steaming cup of cocoa, with a dollop of Fluff, rested on the small table next to her armchair. 

“Is this assignment dangerous, sir?” she asked. Perhaps she should have asked this question before taking on this charge, but it was too late now. 

The Lord Morpheus paused a moment. “I do not believe so, not to your dreaming self. I cannot speak for your waking. I would urge you to use craft and guile on this person, this sorcerer, but use your best judgement.”

Zillah agreed with that. “And how will I find him?”

Morpheus held out his hand. In it was a white hinged box. The box was open, and nestled in the white lining were three cloth-wrapped bundles. Zillah wrinkled her nose at the odor of decaying herbs and something else she couldn’t identify. The scent touched the edge of her memory, but she didn’t have time to chase it now.

“These were made by the sorcerer you are seeking. Use them to dowse his direction. He is most likely in the outer reaches of my realm, so I will grant you use of a steed.” Morpheus stood. “Matthew will lead you to the stables; from there you and your steed will be on your own.” 

With that he vanished, and Zillah was in a courtyard. Matthew perched nearby on a stile. “So, that’s the boss,” he said conversationally, as if they had just stepped away instead of miracle transportation. “C’mon over to the corral.” 

Matthew fluttered off towards a corral next to a large stable. There were many horse-like creatures inside the corral. Some were grazing, but several lifted their heads to look at her. She leaned against the fence, watching them move. 

Matthew tilted his head. “Looks like most of them are out here. I’d avoid the unicorns and the kelpie, but we’ve got Sleipnir, pookas, hippogriffs, gryphons, Companions, The Black Stallion, Black Beauty, Bucephalus, Rocinante, Gringolet…”

Zillah stepped up to the fence. “I’m going on a quest for the Dream-King!” she shouted across the corral. “Would any of you like to help me?” She stepped back.

Matthew eyed her. “Well, that’s one way to choose a steed.”

The various creatures seemed to confer with each other, then a striking dapple grey pegasus lifted its head and snorted. The others stepped back, and the pegasus cantered towards the fence, wings lifted. With a soaring leap, she flew over the fence and circled before trotting up to Zillah. “You may call me Cameo. I would be happy to join you on your journey.”

“Call me Shadow,” said Zillah. 

~*~*~*~

Morpheus considered his current hero, Shadow. 

Heroes of the Dreamlands were constant, rotating in and out as needed, but his realm and its inhabitants seemed to have a certain affection for this particular hero. 

Rarely did a human sorcerer have the skill and knowledge to steal power from dreams; usually they were stopped by other humans before they got to that point. The Constantine line had proven themselves in this way, and other humans from time to time had been of assistance to the dream realm.

But sometimes they needed a hero; a dreamer with an instinct for the dream realms, a longing for justice, and something indefinable but infinitely recognizable to the Lord of Dreams. 

The Shadow was one such hero, and he only hoped she would be in time to save the skerry, as well as herself.

~*~*~*~

They were flying, with Cameo wearing a modified saddle for Zillah’s comfort, and a pack with the box and other necessities slung over Zillah’s back. They headed towards the archipelago of dream-skerries, zipping in and out of the cloud cover. 

At the edge of the archipelago, they landed. Zillah held one of the bundles in her hand. She wanted to protect it, as if it was something precious to her, rather than a dirty handkerchief stuffed with herbs and tied with…hair? She looked closer. 

The handkerchief was similar to one she had lost back when she and Jake had started dating. Zillah hadn’t stressed about it at the time; the washing machine regularly ate socks and underwear. Now she wasn’t so sure that it was a problem with the machine. 

The bundle was tied with braided strands of hair. When she worried a strand loose and looked carefully, a cold knot formed in Zillah’s stomach. The strand was wavy and brown, and she was certain that she could pluck its twin off her own head. 

This sorcerer had stolen from _her_ and used her to gain power from her dreams. 

Zillah clenched her fist around the bundle. It broke apart into colored smoke, silver and green. The silver smoke twirled around Zillah and seeped into her skin, while the sickly green smoke shot off to the north-west. 

Cameo snorted, “Get on!’ and almost before Zillah settled into her seat, the winged horse leapt into the sky, following the trail.

Again they paused, and the silver smoke made Zillah feel stronger and more energized. She remembered more and more about her previous Dreamlands travels, that the fairy Nuala was her friend and the librarian Lucien was a mentor. She remembered her long walks with Matthew and circling the island that lived in her dreams. The Island of Trust was her place, a place she had found in her dreams and made her own. She had a cottage lined with bookshelves filled with her favorite stories. Nearby was a beach for walking and chatting with her Selkie friends. It was a place of rest and restoration for her--and the sorcerer was stealing it.

Cameo and Zillah followed the smoke to the Island of Trust. 

~*~*~*~

Matthew winged his way to the garden where Morpheus was conferring with the trees. 

“She remembers, Boss,” he croaked. “I can feel it.”

Morpheus nodded. He was distracted by the growing storm in the West, as the anger of his hero grew, as she retook the power and memories stolen from her. 

Would his hero prevail against the sorcerer? He didn’t want to interfere directly, even within his realm. This was not his power that was stolen—not directly. It belonged to the dreamer, and she had used it to develop a lonely skerry, one that would have eventually faded back into the dreamscape. Instead, it was a vital and growing part of his realm, and would not need to fade for a long time to come. 

Morpheus wanted dreamers like Zillah, and he didn’t want them to become batteries for itinerant sorcerers. 

~*~*~*~

Zillah remembered the Island of Trust. It was a beautiful place, dotted with small stone cottages on bluffs above a sandy beach. Inland one could find forests and fields, and even a small town that was an easy walk from the cottage. People were kind, animals chatted amiably, and if you were lucky, the lunch and dinner trees would grow whatever you asked for, if you gave them a few hours and asked nicely. The Island of Trust that she remembered was a beautiful, serene place. 

This island was neither beautiful nor serene.

Instead of vibrant greenery and sparkling sand, there were stunted trees next to blasted kindling, and jagged grey rocks on a beach where no one could sit comfortably, let alone walk barefoot. No birds graced the sky; even the cheerful sparrows were gone. No animals rustled through woods and fields, intent on their own business. 

The village was empty. The people were gone. 

The remains of the village reminded her of photos she had seen on the news of towns caught in the crossfire of war, with buildings blown apart by heavy artillery and rubble where the tea shop used to be. 

She held the final bundle in her hand, Cameo at her side. As she squeezed the bundle into smoke, she roared “COME AND FIGHT!” Silver smoke engulfed her body, and suddenly she _knew_ who the sorcerer was. 

The roiling green smoke spiraled up, then down again to settle behind the burnt-out remains of the tailor shop. As she stalked forward to confront the sorcerer, he stepped out from his hiding spot, the nasty smirk she had always hated--but never enough to say anything--still on his face. 

“You aren’t going to do anything to me,” sneered her ex-husband. He advanced on her, and she backed up, leading him to where the town square used to be. 

“Why did you do this? They didn’t do anything to you!” Zillah asked. Her mind was furiously working on how to stop him, but couldn’t think of how. 

Jake sneered again. “Don’t you know? That’s why I married you in the first place, you naïve girl. You had power you weren’t using, that you didn’t even know you had. So I took it. I’m putting it to much better use than creating this…space.” He gestured around, and Zillah could see the Island of Trust through his twisted vision. To him, it was a small, ugly, place filled with boring beings that deserved what they got. 

Zillah stood up straight. She knew what she had to do. Lord Morpheus had told her, after all. She was also sure that Jake didn’t remember that his full name had been on their marriage certificate and divorce papers. 

“Jacob Elias Richard Kingsbury, I am taking my power back. Now!” With that, she reached for him with her hands and her imagination. There wasn’t much of her own power left in him, but he was stuffed full of the power of the Island. 

That power, the power of _her_ dreams and the slow rebuilding of an Island she had visited throughout her childhood, burst out of her ex-husband. The sickly green tendrils emanating from him could not hold back the pure silver of her dreaming. 

He went on the offensive; the tendrils no longer clung to her power, but instead reached for her. At first she blocked them, but one got through her shield and attached itself, leechlike, to her temple. 

Zillah saw herself as Jake saw her. 

\--she was tending the bar at a college party and he could see her power  
\--he got an introduction after graduation, hunted her at her workplace, her hangouts, the homes of her friends  
\--that first date he laid a geas on her to bend to his will. She had no defenses, no shields, a lamb to the slaughter  
\--he found her so unappealing that even when they were planning their wedding, he cheated on her  
\--and after they were married he would bind her magically so she wouldn’t notice that he stayed out all night seeking more magical knowledge  
\--his shock when, after two years of marriage, he came back from a work trip to find that she had moved out, served him with divorced papers  
\--but her purpose was nearly fulfilled and he only set the draining charms to keep her from discovering what he had taken

Zillah saw Jake as he truly was: a greedy, grasping, selfish man with a tiny bit of magical talent and a huge contempt for other people. 

With that knowledge, she broke the connection between them, flicking his tendril of power away as if it were a mosquito. 

At that moment, Jake looked terrified. As long as she had known him, he had never been scared. 

Zillah smiled confidently. 

“Jacob Elias Richard Kingsbury, I take my dreaming power back from you and return it to the Island of Trust.” With those words, Zillah became a conduit for the power, pushing Jake away and awake. His dream-self dissipated into green smoke and was blown away by the wind. 

She was surrounded by silver. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see two smudges—dapple grey and black. She gave herself to the Island, all of the stolen power returned. The village rebuilt itself. The forests grew and the meadows bloomed. The people returned, smiling and happy. The Selkies returned as well, bearing baskets filled with sea glass and fresh fish. 

A hand dropped onto her shoulder, just before she gave all of her self away to the Island. “Shadow. Hero. Enough.”

With those words, the Dream-Lord brought her out of her fugue state. She stopped. 

The Island of Trust was as it should be. Her friends and neighbors, the people of all kinds who lived there, cheered for Shadow, their hero. 

Lord Morpheus turned her to face him. Though he wasn’t smiling, there was still a pleased expression on his face. “You did well, Shadow.”

Everything went blurry, and they were back in the castle, seated on two chairs on either side of a small table, facing the fireplace. 

Zillah twisted her hands. She remembered everything now, and even though she had often visited the Castle at the heart of the Dreaming, she hadn’t had much to do with Morpheus. She’d spent time with Nuala, or browsing in the library, but meeting him and knowing what she had forgotten was a different thing. “Thank you, sir.”

Morpheus tilted his head. “You have woken something within yourself.”

“The magic…” Zillah breathed. 

“Yes. And you could cause much havoc in the waking world with it.”

Zillah nodded. “You need to take it away.”

“No,” Zillah looked up at him. “It is not of the Dreaming, it is of you. You didn’t use all of it to return the Island of Trust to its former glory. You will need a teacher.”

Morpheus waved his hand, and…

~*~*~*~

…Zillah awoke to the beeping of her alarm clock. 

She felt energized. It was five in the morning, and she felt more like herself than she had in ages. Carnation complained when she got up, but eagerly gobbled her breakfast. 

At the coffee shop, she hummed along with the radio as she helped Ben-the-Baker. She was free of Jake, she had work to do, and somehow everything would be all right. 

She smiled at the next customer, a man wearing a tan trench coat. “How can I help you, sir?”

~*~*~*~

Morpheus returned the map of the Archipelago to its place. Slowly but surely, the Dreaming was returning to its former glory.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta!
> 
> For Edonohana--I hope you enjoy this! I had fun writing it! Thank you for such lovely prompts!


End file.
